On the Tip
by Vyctori
Summary: FE7. Based on the supports between Wallace and Renault. A long time ago, Wallace knew a great mercenary called Renault. When he meets a bishop with the same name, it triggers certain childhood memories of the mercenary he once knew.


On the Tip

_V. S. Windheart_

A/N: This is a one-shot I entered in a contest for the Fire Emblem Club on deviantART. I thought I might as well publish it here. Anyway, as the summary states, it's just a little elaboration on Wallace and Renault's support conversations, because, as I thought when I first read them, "There's a story in here." Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review with comments and constructive criticism!

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The last of Nergal's Dread Isle resistance of which they were aware had fallen and Eliwood's mercenaries were regrouping as dusk settled smoothly onto the island. Wallace, strapping his Steel Lance on his back, watched the younger members of the group scurry about with various preparations. There was Nino chattering animatedly to Merlinus with her silent shadow, Jaffar, looking on sternly with folded arms. Kent was escorting Lady Lyndis to Priscilla for healing, careful not to bump his liege's wounded arm.

A soft footstep in the stunted grass caused the older soldier to look away from the bustle. Approaching him was the newest member of the army, the bishop Renault.

Wallace gave a slight bow of reverence, unable to do more due to his bulky armour. "Greetings, Your Excellency." He squinted in the greying light.

Renault nodded at him. "Blessings to you."

There was something familiar about the man . . . his features. Though he carried himself much differently, Wallace was almost sure.

He broke the silence that had fallen. "Your pardon, but . . . I feel I've seen you elsewhere."

"Indeed?" Renault seemed slightly taken aback.

"Yes . . . I would be sure of it, except the man I once knew is surely dead, for it was thirty years ago now that I knew him."

_"Wally, a new mercenary just arrived!" Clifton called out. "He looks right dangerous—you should get those girly legs of yours moving and take a look."_

_Wallace blushed faintly, though by now he was well used to the taunts of the other pages. Still, he sprinted after Clifton, eager to see the newest addition to Castle Caelin's army. Caelin was out-of-the-way enough that even the arrival of another fighter was enough to interest him._

_As usual, the short, slim boy was easily pushed to the back of the crowd. Looking around, Wallace saw nothing to stand on to increase his height and so was left standing on tiptoe and craning his neck._

_Soon, the mercenary walked past them on the way to enter the second protective gate of the castle. Only his stride couldn't be more different from the casual gait of the villagers living inside the castle wall. Each movement was precise, using no more energy than was needed. He seemed as though he was aware of everything, absolutely everything that was going on around him. _

_Wallace couldn't help but stare, fascinated, at dusty-green haired man. Though he looked as if he was only in his late thirties, to him, it felt as though the man had been refining his killing techniques for far, far longer. . . ._

------------------

That evening, Wallace met up with Renault yet again, this time as they took their evening rations from Merlinus' supply cart. After exchanging greetings, Wallace once more fell into reminiscing.

"I'm quite sure you'd find it hard to believe, but when I was a page, I was such a scrawny child that the others teased me, calling me a girl," he began conversationally.

Renault stared at the general for a moment, taking in his huge height and breadth, his fierce face made harsh by a long life of fighting. ". . . You're right," he eventually said. "It _is_ hard to believe."

Wallace broke into a hearty laugh. "Obviously I didn't stay that way. And it was all because of one man. Renault, a wandering mercenary who came to Caelin one year took me under his wing—once I had bothered him enough so that it was simpler for him to just teach me and get on with his life, that is."

Renault half-smiled, either in reaction to Wallace's words or to some hidden thought. Wallace didn't notice.

"I remember we called him Renault the Impervious," he continued. "Now he was something to watch in battle! Incredible skill, almost perfect precision, and so cold! He'd almost freeze you with a glance—then he'd cut you down." He sighed. "I wish I could meet him one last time."

"Why would that be?" Renault inquired with idle curiosity.

"To tell him thank you," Wallace replied simply. "And that I kept my promise. See, long ago, once he had to move on, I made him a promise that I would fight not for glory, but for the people. Idealistic stuff, most would say, but I think I've managed to keep my word, to the best of my ability. I'd love to be able to see that grudging pride of his one more time . . . except . . . I'm quite sure he's dead. He has to be. It was so long ago."

Renault made no reply. He downed his mug of ale, eyed it thoughtfully for a few moments, then spoke softly. "I bid you good evening, Wallace."

"Ah, I've probably bored you beyond belief, eh, Your Excellency?" Wallace chuckled good-naturedly. "All this rambling from an old warhorse like me."

"Not at all." Renault shook his head slightly. "It has been most . . . interesting, to say the least."

And without another word, he walked off, melding with the darkness and leaving Wallace to his thoughts.

_"Please?" Wallace begged, trailing after the new mercenary, Renault._

_"No." Renault kept walking._

_"Please?"_

_"No."_

_"Please?" Wallace stretched out the syllables and gave Renault his most innocent, irresistible look._

_Renault stopped and turned around, then studied the boy for a few moments. Then, he sighed. ". . . All right. But you must do _exactly_ what I say. If you don't, I stop training you at once._

_"This is going to be difficult. You may not be up to the work I'm going to give you. Are you willing to give it your all?"_

_"I am, sir." Wallace nodded, extremely serious. "I'm tired of being called weak and girlish. I want to be able to be strong."_

_"If you're certain." Renault studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Your training will start tomorrow morning, early. I want you to do these exercises as soon as you wake up, every day without fail. . . ."_

_------------------------_

_"Master Renault?" Wallace asked, some weeks later. His breath huffed a little in his throat, having just finished a particularly difficult task. However, he was still much improved from when he had first started._

_"Yes?" Renault waited patiently for the boy to gather enough breath to push out whatever question he would ask next._

_"I want to make a promise to you," Wallace said, voice earnest._

_The mercenary blinked once, surprised. This certainly wasn't what he had been expecting._

_"I promise to you that when I fight, it's not going to be for me. It's going to be for the people I'm using my skills to defend. I'm not going to be like all the other boys in my year that are going for honour and glory—I'm going to be a knight for the people." Wallace's fair face reddened somewhat after his speech and he started studying the dusty stone of the practice courtyard with the interest of a scholar._

_Renault gave something that in a less intimidating man would be called a snort. "Boy, you've been listening to that fool minstrel of Lord Hausen. You'll never be able to hold to those ideas." His voice changed, became bitter. "Once you get out on the battlefield and your sword drinks blood for the first time, all those pretty notions of yours will fly out of your head and you'll become like the rest of us—selfish. Hungry for praise. Hungry for—"_

_His head turned sharply as he sliced off the remainder of the sentence. Wallace wasn't sure what his teacher had intended to say, and from the how tense Renault's shoulders looked, he wasn't planning on asking any time soon._

_Still he persisted. "I _won't_. I'll not be like them. I—I _promise_ I'll fight for ordinary people, and ordinary people alone. And if I can keep my promise by the time I get too old to fight, I'll find you, and I'll tell you. And then you'll see!"_

_Renault slowly faced him again. His stone-hard eyes took in every bit of Wallace, from his sweaty brown hair to his scuffed brown boots. A pretty child, looking as if nothing more than a light puff of wind would send him tumbling tail over head. Renault knew that equally earnest children had made the same vow to their teachers for centuries. He wasn't very confident that Wallace would be different, but . . . one never knew. After even his long years of life, he knew that sometimes, as often as they did, things didn't _always_ go the way one expected._

_"All right," he said eventually. "I'll accept your vow. I'm expecting you to keep it, though. Break it, and you don't want to meet up with me—I'll guarantee you that."_

_"I won't break my promise." Wallace's voice was steady. "Never."_

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Another day, another battle. Events were escalating at a terrible pace; everyone in the army was bone-tired. It was almost breaking some of the fighters.

Not Wallace, though. He had seen many years of combat and knew how to deal with it, knew not to let it get to him. He watched as Renault walked by, seeming to be off somewhere in his thoughts as he often was.

"All right, there, Your Excellency?" Wallace called out.

Renault changed direction and moved so he was standing nearby the general. "Yes."

"You're a funny sort, you know that?" Wallace laughed quietly. "No irreverence intended, of course."

"None taken."

"It's odd, though." Wallace grew more serious. "I feel as if I've known you longer than I actually have. Young Sain, were he talking to a beautiful woman—or any woman at all, with that one—would say it's as if we'd met in a previous life. Foolish. But somehow true.

"To be honest, Bishop Renault, I feel as if we could become good, close friends."

Renault half-smiled, as usual showing no more emotion than that. "The same is true for me, Wallace."

"Though of course once the battle's won, you and I will be splitting ways. Pity, that. I'd have liked to spent some time getting to know you better." Wallace sighed. "Can't be helped, of course."

The bishop shook his head. "Keep your guard up, Wallace. Victory is not yet ours."

Wallace gave a sudden bark of laughter. "Do you know, he once said the exact same thing to me?" He no longer needed to clarify whom he was talking about. "I almost forgot that—and me spending so much time studying what he said to me. I still have the notes I made about his teachings squirreled away somewhere."

There was a silence. Then, Renault, looking hesitant for perhaps the first time since Wallace had met him, spoke. "Wallace . . . were you given the chance to meet your old mentor, would you take it?"

"But of course!" Wallace said right away. "It would be an honour. Though . . . strange as it may sound . . . somehow, I don't feel the need as strongly as I did even a few weeks ago. Ever since I met you, it's seemed to me like my old teacher is close by. Watching from heaven, or something. It's odd."

"Perhaps . . . and perhaps not." A real smile appeared on the bishop's lips then, deepening some lines yet somehow making the tired man appear more youthful.

Wallace shared the smile. "Thank you, Your Excellency."

"I have no need for thanks . . . I've done nothing meriting your thanks." Renault's smile was gone, but it didn't matter.

"Well, you've listened to this old soldier ramble for the past few days now. Besides . . . I just needed to say it. For something, though I don't know what. It's on the tip of my brain, as they say, but I can't figure out for the life of me what it is." He laughed again. "Another sign that I ought to retire—and I probably will, once all this nonsense is finished."

Renault inclined his head slightly. "Good evening, Wallace." And he turned and walked away.

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_"Master Renault, why are you leaving?" Wallace seemed almost close to tears. "I still haven't learned enough from you yet!"_

_"I've spent enough time here." Renault shouldered his travelling bag and walked out of the barracks with Wallace trailing after him, looking lost._

_"No, you haven't! If you go, I'll—I'll miss you!" Wallace scrubbed at his eyes. Tears—another girly trait, he thought, angry at himself_

_"You're a good child, but it really is time for me to move on. People like me do better when they keep moving, keep themselves from putting down roots and growing too attached to a certain place, certain people. Maybe someday I'll settle, but until then, it's goodbye, Wallace." Renault's usually harsh voice seemed somehow quieter, more pensive._

_Wallace was silent until they were standing outside of Castle Caelin's gates. Then he spoke again. "I'm going to see you again. Remember that promise I made? Well, I'm going to keep it and I'm going to find you when I finish fighting. I'll make you proud, Master Renault."_

_Renault smiled, the first and only real smile Wallace had ever seen him give. "I plan on holding you to that. Don't disappoint me, Wallace, and above all, don't disappoint yourself. Too many others have let themselves be disappointed, and you don't want to go where they have. Believe me on this if you believe me no other time."_

_"Aye, sir." Wallace nodded vigorously, not fully understanding what he meant. _

_That would take time and experience with the larger world. Renault knew that someday, Wallace would comprehend and wish he didn't._

_His smile faded. "Goodbye, Wallace." And he turned and walked away, with Wallace standing and waving after him, watching until he was called away by another page._


End file.
